Smallitude (or Showers and Ears)

For some unknown reason, other than I might be maturing as a Christ-follower finally, I've been taking note of, and trying to allow God to be active in, the small details of life. The story of Elijah in the cave hearing the still small voice rings with an objective reality. You can't hear it. It's not audible. It doesn't sound like Val Kilmer or James Earl Jones, but it is an impression, a sense, that there is a direction that should be pursued, an action that should be taken, a prayer that should be lifted up.

Today, after reading for awhile and eating Pringles, I had the impression that I wanted to take a shower.

Wanted, mind you, not needed. I didn't smell funky, like a dead carcass, lying inert on an Indiana county road in the middle of July, slowing bloating and swelling from the 200% humidity. I happen to like showers, actually. Sometimes I just take them because I have nothing else to do and standing underneath a steaming flow of Culligan-softened hot water, my skin flirting with 2nd degree burns, sounds like just the thing to cure the ills of the world (or at least my world in that moment). I mentioned earlier that this was an impression. I want to clarify that I don't think that God, while dealing with world-hunger, preventing nuclear holocaust, and cleaning up after the Bush Administration, really is concerned with giving me the impression that I should take a shower in that moment, that it might be a divine appointment of sorts in line with the divine pow-wows Moses, Elijah and Jesus had with God (nor the one that all three had together at the Transfiguration).

Or maybe He is concerned with that moment, as with all moments from the beginning of history until its inevitable consummation. Maybe, just maybe, it is a divine appointment. Maybe all of our moments are ripe with the possibilities of the burning bush, the mouth of the cave, or the Cross.

What I do know is that I've been having more and more of these moments, these impressions, these voices that seem to have been closeted for so long (I think I might have had the key all along to the closet) and are speaking more and more frequently.

And I, for once, am listening to them.

One voice says, "Do the two loads of laundry that are currently littering the floor of your closet before your wife gets home. Do it so she won't have to." To which I reply, "Leave me alone, I want to take a nap." But recently, I've been doing the laundry anyway.

Another voice says, "Why don't you take a moment and spend some time in the written Word?" to which I reply, "I'll get to it later." Recently I've been spending some time in the written Word when Something tells me to.

There is a voice that says, "Why don't you pray about that?" To which I reply, "What's the point?" And recently I've been praying and, even more importantly, waiting to see what happens.

True story: I woke up in the morning one day with a clogged right ear. I don't have the cleanest ears in the world, so I figured it could be a yearly build up of ear wax, built up to the point where Shrek would even be jealous. Or perhaps it has something to do with the fact that every spring my head fills up with mucous and doesn't empty out until October because I have such God-forsaken allergies. I'm going with the latter for argument's sake. I was perturbed at my partial hearing impaired condition because, frankly, it's freaking annoying to only be able to hear well out of one ear. The other ear makes everything sound like the teacher off the Peanuts cartoons--"Wha-wha wha wha-wha-wha." I dropped my son off at daycare in this condition, trying not to run into things because my balance was a little off. I got back in my car, and for some unknown reason I did something that I haven't done in a long time: I asked God for something completely meaningless in the big scheme of life. I asked him to unclog my ear. Why? In the kingdom-scheme of things my ear issues don't amount to a hill of racoon crap, but it was frankly pissing me off by this time and I thought it couldn't hurt to let God in on my annoyance.

"Okay, God," I prayed. "I know this isn't much and I'm sure that it'll come unclogged on its own at some point, but I would really like my ear to be better. It's not a big deal, but I would like you to help me with this." I left it at that and drove off. An hour later it occurred to me that my ear wasn't plugged anymore. Not a grand miracle, but I'll take it. I can hear better at least.

Why did I pray about my mucous-filled ear (or whatever it is that clogs up ears)? I don't know other than I felt like I should, like God might be in on this one, taking the matter of my damned up ear as if it mattered the most to Him, more than nuclear holocaust and the Democratic debate.

Here's what I'm driving at: I feel like I've missed out on a lot in recent years. I've been so preoccupied with helping everyone around me listen for the Voice that I've forgotten what it sounds like. Jesus said, in John 10, that his sheep would know his voice. Maybe being out of ministry for awhile will help me better learn to listen to God about important things, like life direction, when to have another child, how to be an honest, people-loving car salesman. And maybe I'll better learn to listen to God about things that don't matter except in that moment--clogged ears, a kid with a cough, peace to make it through a rough day. In trying to make sense of what's been going on in my life, I've begun noticing little differences in each day that seem to be painting a larger picture of what God might be up to. But, like any masterpiece, you can never tell what part the individual brush strokes will play in the overall picture until the master has finished, put his paint brush to the side, stepped back, looked upon his creation with a smile and said, "Ah, now that's what I had in mind. Magnifico!"

Here's to the Artist, working upon the canvas of Life, with clogged ears and a need for a shower as paintbrush and paint.

shalom, matt